


Mistaken

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Community: no_true_pair, Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-21
Updated: 2010-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened was an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistaken

The first time it happened was an accident. A mistake, Cloud said, and Rufus was inclined to agree.

He'd been seated behind his desk, in his luxuriously appointed new office, while Cloud reported in after a delivery job. It was a position of authority and one that subtly intimidated most of his opponents, reminding them that he was Rufus ShinRa, and even if it wasn't what it once was, he still owned the most powerful corporation on the planet. The mistake had been getting up to move closer, following some impulse that wanted him to try a much more physical form of dominance – ridiculous, as Cloud could break him in two with little effort even if Rufus was still taller when they stood toe-to-toe.

Rufus was never sure which of them did move first, but suddenly they were kissing each other, hands moving frantically over flesh as clothes fell away. The first time happened with Cloud bent over his desk while Rufus pounded into him, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he watched the smaller man push back against him, making incoherent sounds of lust and need.

Neither one of them expected it to happen again.

But Rufus took pleasure in hiring Cloud to deliver things. He'd long given up on getting Cloud to work directly for him – he lacked the temperament to make a decent Turk, anyway, and Rufus had no intention of restarting the SOLDIER programme. He paid well, so Cloud always accepted, and Rufus felt a perverse thrill run through him every time the former mercenary agreed to carry out his orders.

And afterwards, Cloud would report in to let him know the job was complete, and collect his payment. They'd talk – usually skirting the edge of arguing, if not crossing it entirely – and somehow it would happen again. Rufus had fucked Cloud in his chair, on the couch, against the wall and on the floor. Nothing was ever said about it, but Rufus knew the other man was quite capable of stopping him if he objected. Instead, Cloud was just as eager for it as he was.

He suspected Cloud would be surprised to discover just how much Rufus did know about him. The Turks had kept an eye on Cloud since the first time Tseng encountered him on a mission to Modeoheim. Part of it had been his relationship with Zack Fair, but part of it had been his own actions. Tseng hadn't simply looked up his company files, but checked into his background, his life before joining ShinRa. Rufus knew all about Nibelheim, the way they'd treated an illegitimate child with no known father in a small village. He knew about Cloud's time with the Security Department, his failing of the SOLDIER exam. He knew as much as anyone could about what went wrong at Nibelheim, and the experiments Hojo had subjected Cloud to, although he had to admit he'd skimmed over those. Some of it was too disturbing even to him.

He knew about Cloud's escape, as the Turks had been called in to deal with the two escaped 'experimental subjects', and Zack's death. Tseng's annoyance and disgust over the latter was clear in the terse, handwritten notes on that particular mission, and that was where Cloud had temporarily dropped off the Turk's radar, only to reappear with Avalanche. It had been that which had bought him to Rufus' attention, and he'd been intrigued from the start. It took him awhile to admit that part of what he felt was actually... envy.

At the time, his father was still alive, and Rufus was stuck in the position of being the President's son, with the title of Vice President and little real authority to go with it. Everything he did was defined and circumscribed by who his father was. He'd hated the man; so many bitter memories and arguments lay between them, and yet he'd never managed to break free of him. There was little in Cloud's life worth envying - poverty, scorn and failure, pain and torture the likes of which he couldn't conceive of - yet Cloud had done what he could not.

He'd set out to make his own life when he left Nibelheim at the age of fourteen, and although it wasn't the glorious career in SOLDIER he'd likely dreamed of, he defied expectations at all turns. He hadn't made it into SOLDIER, yet his record in the Security Department was filled with numerous important missions in which he'd played small but vital roles, and he went on to become friends with one of the highest-ranking SOLDIERs in the company. The company doctors had dismissed him as too weak to survive the treatments, yet he'd been one of only two people to survive the Project S modifications – the other being Sephiroth himself. Hojo had deemed him a failure as a specimen, yet when he finally awoke, he proved to be as strong as any SOLDIER. In time, he would prove himself stronger, and defeat Sephiroth.

Events had moved so quickly after that, and with his father's death Rufus had taken control of the corporation, found himself facing the blond first as an opponent, and later, an odd sort of ally. The feeling of envy had mellowed into something more like grudging admiration and an unwilling attraction. When he'd set out to rebuild ShinRa, Rufus had the idea to recruit Cloud, to place him under his command, his control. Just the idea of it filled him with a delicious anticipation, but he was astonished now that he'd ever thought it would work. For all that had happened, Cloud had never lost the part of him that was still a dreamer.

The part that had allowed him do impossible things, while even now Rufus was still defined by his birth.

Yet somehow, they'd still come to this. Rufus couldn't put a name to what this was between them: sex was too simple, and it certainly wasn't love. It felt too raw for that, and he doubted such soft emotions could find a place in someone like him, anyway. It probably wouldn't last long, but for now it was enough to revel in the feel of Cloud's body under his hands, surprisingly soft skin under his hands, his lips. Almost – but not quite – under his control.

There was irony there. Cloud didn't trust the new ShinRa Corporation any more than he did the last, and had little reason to trust Rufus, both as the head of said company, and for his past actions. Rufus suspected the blond would be outraged if he suggested that it was precisely the power he so distrusted that attracted Cloud to him, that what his lover really wanted was someone who wasn't awed or intimidated by him in any way. It was certainly true that he appreciated it when Rufus was just a little rough and demanding, dominating him in this one area when he wouldn't tolerate it in any other.

Which is how Rufus came to be fucking him on the edge of his desk, Cloud perched there in a position that could not possibly be comfortable while Rufus moves inside him, each thrust rocking his hips up and back, so that he slides a little against the polished surface. He falls back until he's resting on his elbows, and Rufus lets him, taking in the bruises his mouth has left on fair skin with satisfaction: at his neck, down his chest. There's even one, complete with the imprint of his teeth, on the inside of one thigh. He watches each expression that crosses the blond's face and memorises them for future reference. Finally it's too much and he leans over, catching Cloud's lips between his teeth as his movement's pick up. Broken words and murmurings fall between them, most of them too garbled to be understood, but three sink into Rufus' consciousness with the smooth precision of a knife as he tumbles over the edge.

As he catches his breath, as his thoughts slowly rearrange themselves into some form of coherency, something cold twists in his stomach.

People say things in the heat of passion all the time. Rufus knows this, struggles to keep his own utterances to filthy encouragements and generic endearments, usually said with a slightly mocking edge to them. The latter have the additional benefit of making Cloud scowl and snarl at him; more than once he's felt nails down his back after referring to his lover by some wonderfully inappropriate nickname, like sweetheart or babydoll. It just encourages Rufus more. But Cloud rarely says anything, his own demands expressed in urgent sounds and movements. And he's too honest to say something like that without meaning it.

When he looks at Cloud, the other man's face is pale, blue eyes wary. Unable to help himself, Rufus brushes a lock of blond hair out of the way, staring at that anxious face a moment longer before pulling out of him. He takes a step back, tugs Cloud up and along with him as he collapses back into the massive leather chair that sits behind his desk. That leaves the smaller man plastered against his chest, and Rufus runs absent hands along the curve of his back as he contemplates this latest turn of events.

He doesn't know what he feels for Cloud. Lust, definitely. Possessiveness, too. Obsession, perhaps. A nicer man, given such a confession, would have returned it, or even an utter bastard. But Rufus isn't willing to say any such thing.

He has few illusions about himself. He's cynical and manipulative. Controlling. Some of the deliveries he's sent Cloud on were completely unnecessary, simply an excuse to see him; other times he's deliberately sent him into some trouble area or another, secure in the knowledge that the fighter-turned-courier will kill any monster foolish enough to get in his way, and things will be a lot quieter afterwards. His moral code stretches only as far as enlightened self-interest will take him. He still plays games, not just with his lover but with other people as well. Cloud has dreams, but Rufus has plans and the ruthless will to see them come to fruition.

“Don't worry,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Cloud's temple, and barely manages to bite off the reflexive 'babydoll' habit would have made him add. The younger man is limp against him right now, face half-buried in the crook of Rufus' neck, and there's something pleasant about it as he toys with the longs strands of blond hair that fly in all directions. No point in making his lover mad at him right now, not when things are already so... awkward.

No, Rufus has few illusions about himself, and knows too much about Cloud. Cloud didn't let the opinions of his home town hold him back, didn't let his failure to join SOLDIER stop him from being a fighter. He fought back from the catatonic state Hojo's experiments and too much mako left him in, fought free of Sephiroth and Jenova's control. Whatever reason the fighter has for allowing this, it's only a matter of time before he breaks free of Rufus, too.

Rufus lets his own eyes drift closed a moment, concentrates on the feel of Cloud's skin against his, the weight of him in his lap. Warm breath against his collarbone and soft hair tangled in his fingers.

“Don't worry,” he repeats, and isn't sure if the words are aimed at Cloud or himself. “Nothing lasts forever.”


End file.
